“I’m sorry for telling you.”
“No, don’t be,” he says. “I’d rather know.”
I’m not sure I feel the same way about my own end, but I don’t admit as much. Luke continues.
“I think knowing about it is better, because then maybe I can avoid it. We can avoid it together,” he says, with forced strength.
“I guess,” I say, looking into his eyes.
“No, seriously. Okay, yes, this is pretty intense. I’m a little… I don’t know. I can’t quite process it all right now. But don’t you think the advance warning gives me the advantage?”
“But, Luke, I—”
“No, really. You changed something with Page. You’ve changed other things, too. You can change this. It won’t happen,” he says with authority, as if he’s trying to convince himself. I guess that’s the best anyone can do with this information.
“Maybe you’re right,” I say calmly.
“I am right,” he says, his voice increasing in volume. “You’ll change your future. You’ll save me.”
“And what if I can’t?”
“Then we just won’t go down the alley. Trust me, it won’t happen.”
Luke hugs me tight and kisses me with such strength that I almost buy his story. But when he releases me, I see it flash across his eyes.
Fear.
Hoping to distract him, I offer my notes so that he can read up on yesterday’s events while I get ready for school. As I shower, I can’t help but wonder whether I did the right thing by telling him.
Then again, maybe he’s right.
Maybe knowing how to avoid bad situations is enough.
Reaching for my fluffy white towel hanging on the hook, I think one thought over and over again: Please, be enough.
44
Jamie looks at me in Spanish class without grimacing, but the rest of the day is bleak. I float through school in a fog, asking myself questions I can’t answer: Is my brother alive? Will Luke die the death I remember? Will I ever get to meet my father?
>“It’s possible that the pawnshop is a front for an illegal adoption agency. I think they might be stealing and selling kids.”
My mom’s jaw drops. “Selling kids?” she asks, clearly horror-stricken.
Captain Moeller rubs his eyes. “It happens more than you’d think. People can’t have them on their own, and they get impatient because regular adoption takes too long. They turn to illegal baby brokers and fork out thousands to buy Junior, no questions asked.”
My mom is quiet for a full two minutes before acknowledging the possibility. Finally, she dares to say it aloud: “You think they stole Jonas and sold him to new parents.”
“It’s possible,” Captain Moeller replies. “I don’t want to get your hopes up, but if that were the case…”
Mom grabs my hand before interrupting.
“Jonas could be alive.”
43
My eyes are still closed, but I’m awake now. The air in the room has shifted.
“London?” my mom whispers. I ignore her. She whispers again, but not to me. The sound is softer, as if she’s turned to someone in the hallway.